


The Year 2020

by surreyality



Category: Caduceus | Trauma Center Series, Persona 4
Genre: Blood and Gore, Disease, Implied Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rosalia, Viral hemorrhagic fever, seriously if you're squeamish run away now, the souyo comes later and you're going to hate me when it does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surreyality/pseuds/surreyality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the year 2020 and a missed flight plus a few blizzards lead to Yosuke and Souji getting stuck in Portland, Maryland. And it's just bad luck that the city gets locked in a quarantine just before the next flight to Japan is scheduled to board. But it's not as if things can get any worse, right?... Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patient Zero

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Ch. 31 of Angevon's Days Without Nights for this. I tried a liiiittle too hard to imagine Yuri Lowenthal's voice cracking and ended up imagining something else entirely...
> 
> Also, forgive me if my chapters and/or paragraphs are kind of short. I haven't written anything in ages. It's going to take a while before I get back into the swing of things. >_<

"Partner?"

Souji glanced at him.

"Why on earth did I agree to go with you on this trip?"

The silver-haired man shrugged. "You had nothing better to do?"

The brown-haired man groaned and hit his head on the chair in front of him. He muttered muffled curses into the fabric as Souji laughed.

"I only have two weeks of paid vacation," Yosuke groused. "My boss is going to kill me..."

"Well, there's nothing you can do about a quarantine. We just need to wait it out, and hope for the best."

The 26-year-old kept grumbling. He wished dearly he still wore headphones everywhere, but he'd stopped that a long time ago, maybe as early as his third year of high school. Now, he brought earbuds if he wanted to listen to something in public, but those had been lost at that other airport in Europe after going through the metal detector. Particle detector. Puffer machine. Whatever it was called.

(He wasn't terribly sure which airport it was, either - English, French, German, all of the languages in the Roman alphabet looked the same for all he cared, and he didn't feel like asking.)

At any rate, music would be a great distraction right about now. Then he wouldn't have to think about the insane number of angry voicemails he'd have to sift through when he got home; his vacation had ended yesterday, or today depending on which timezone you went by, and who knew how many more days he'd have to stay here?

Souji sighed. "Come on, Yosuke. If we're going to be here a while, we need to get some food while we still can. I can hear your stomach growling from here," he added, and it was true.

Yosuke punched his own gut in retaliation. "Traitor," he accused.

The two of them gathered their things and stood. As they headed for the food court, they spotted a small crowd forming.

"Hey, what's going on over there?" Yosuke asked, stopping to glance at the commotion.

"I don't know. Let's go check it out."

As they drew closer, they heard crying. Or, rather, it wasn't just crying; it was sobbing, loud and pained and distressed in a way that didn't seem like it should have been caused by a missed flight. The two pushed their way through the crowd, finding surprisingly little resistance, until they reached the cause of the commotion.

In the center of the crowd, they found a young woman, shuddering and vomiting blood between sobs.

There they stood, transfixed and baffled, before Yosuke shook himself out of it and said, loudly, "Well, don't just stand there! Someone needs to call an ambulance!" before walking up to the woman himself and, ignoring the blood, scooping her up into his arms. Souji, meanwhile, translated Yosuke's words and parted the crowd, giving the other man a clear path.

Yosuke walked until he found the nearest restroom, doing his best not to flinch or falter when the woman vomited on him. Twice. Not caring which sex it was meant for, he went in and pushed a stall open. As he tried to set the woman down, she coughed, sending specks of blood into Yosuke's face. The man winced, but wiped off what he could and kept holding the woman as she retched, trying to comfort her as much as he could.

It felt like ages passed before Souji came into the room, though it was probably mere minutes; the blood just kept coming, and the woman's continued sobs, devolving into weak whimpers, were disheartening. Souji wordlessly passed him a water bottle, and he tried futilely to get the woman to take a sip between episodes, but she couldn't do it. She didn't have the strength to do anything but bend over the toilet and cry anymore.

"They called the ambulance before we got there," Souji explained. "They couldn't get through."

"Well, they should have kept trying!" Yosuke snapped. Shaking his head, he stood. "Keep an eye on her for me, will you? She coughed earlier and a little blood got in my eye; I couldn't just leave her to wash it out..." 

Seeing Yosuke keeping one eye tightly shut, Souji nodded and let him pass.

Yosuke waved his hands under the faucet and brought a handful of water to his eye, blinking in it and letting the water fall back into the sink. He did that a few times, watching the faint red stains disappear before scrubbing the rest of his face and drying it with a paper towel. He could hear Souji's voice, and he could faintly hear the woman. He hoped she was quieting because she was getting better, and not just because she lacked the strength to even whimper anymore.

He returned to the stall, where Souji shoved his phone back into his pocket, a frustrated look on his face. Yosuke moved back to the woman's side, trying to get her to sip from the water bottle. As she finally complied, some drops ending up on her chin instead, he asked about the situation.

"It's not good," Souji admitted. "Turns out she's not the only one. There are people collapsing all over the airport, and no ambulance on its way. I even called with my phone, just now; I got through, only for them to tell me one wasn't coming after I described what happened. The hospital's got too many patients with the same thing. They can't take any more patients."

Yosuke grit his teeth. "What the hell? Can't they at least send someone to help?" Souji shook his head. "They've got their hands full. And when I asked around earlier, to see if someone knew how to help... No one, not even the handful of doctors I found, knew how to treat it. They called it a viral hemorrhagic fever, but it's not Ebola. It's worse. A lot worse. And a lot faster."

"Fuck..."

And then the woman shuddered again, and the retching felt a million times worse because Yosuke now knew help wasn't coming. He had to sit here. And let her die. The woman grew paler and paler, her skin vividly contrasted by the blood now streaming down her cheeks and out of her ears. And Yosuke would never forget, never forget the frustration he felt as he realized it was _2020_ and _people still died from diseases like this_. It was 2020 and this woman, who probably had someone waiting for her back home and a job and her _whole life ahead of her_ was dying of some disease no one knew how to treat. Some disease no one had ever discovered before, some disease that sprung up from the cracks when no one was looking and took all of them by surprise. It was 2020, and this woman whose name he'd never gotten to learn was suffering all alone in his, a stranger's, arms, not a friend or relative in sight. It was 2020, and Yosuke would never forget how it felt when the woman in his arms vomited her life's blood before taking one last, shuddering breath. Never forget her face, streaked with tears and blood, as it relaxed from the crumpled expression of pain into a smooth expression of peace. Never forget when her warm body finally stilled and slumped in his arms. Never forget the sensation of her warm, limp body growing stiff and cold.

It was 2020 and Yosuke Hanamura and Souji Seta were stuck in Portland, Maryland, where a woman died in Yosuke's arms, and there was nothing anyone could have done about it.


	2. It Never Ends

It wasn't washing out. 

Of course it wasn't washing out, Yosuke scoffed to himself. It was covered in blood. Blood didn't wash out easily. His shirt was ruined, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. And their luggage had already been sent on back to Japan, meaning he didn't have any spares... He'd just have to get himself a new one. Probably a tourist shirt or something. 

Souji took the woman after she died. There was already a sizable pile of corpses outside. He could hear the moaning and groaning of the other afflicted, much to his chagrin. Frankly, the sound made him feel sick to his stomach. It was far too reminiscent of what had just occurred, for his tastes. Images of the woman, convulsing and retching and growing paler by the minute, filled his mind before he forcefully shook them away. No, he couldn't take it. He couldn't go outside and watch others suffer from the exact same ailment. He just couldn't. Not yet, anyway. 

So he stayed inside the restroom and tried to get the blood off of his shirt, which turned out to be a futile endeavor. Now he was just using it to wipe the blood off the rest of him, since it'd be moot point if he put on a new shirt over still-wet blood. His partner, meanwhile, was probably doing his leader thing in the rest of the airport; Yosuke was a man of action, yes, but he wasn't the type to really take charge. Not the way Souji could. 

It was times like this he was reminded of their time in high school, nine years ago, when Souji was the new transfer student and Yosuke was the infamous Junes boy. He'd been a man of action back then, too, kickstarting their team's investigation into the murders while Souji made the final decisions, leading them in high-pressure situations just like this. Except with more Shadows and less blood. And they'd been able to do more than sit on their hands and wait. 

And none of them had come across any dead bodies. Ha ha. 

He wanted to puke. 

Instead, he got down on his knees and moved to curl up beneath the sink. 

A few minutes ago, a woman he didn't know had died in his arms. He didn't know if it was contagious, if he would die too, if Souji who'd handled her dead body would die, if both of them would get sick and die or if they'd both come out of it okay, frazzled and traumatized but alive. He didn't know if the quarantine would end with a cure or if it would end with all of the infected dying off. And to be honest, he didn't know which was worse. 

It wasn't fair. Wasn't fair that so many lives would be cut short, wasn't fair that only some people might get to live and others would die without a chance for help or survival. It wasn't fair, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Yosuke cried. 

He didn't know how long he sat there, hot tears streaming down his face and falling to his knees. It felt like hours, to him, but he couldn't know for sure. Time had a way of distorting itself at the worst possible moments. Sooner or later, though, a familiar voice called out his name, its owner having returned to the restroom. 

"Yosuke?" 

"Pa-rtner?" he croaked, wiping away his tears. "I-I'm over here." 

Souji came to find him, looking far wearier than when he left. "I brought you a shirt. I thought you might need it." 

Yosuke wordlessly accepted the gift, knowing by now that no thanks were needed. Instead he just put it on, and accepted the hand when it was offered, leaving the old, ruined shirt behind. His partner was back, and his partner needed him now. The time for tears was over. He looked Souji in the eye, feeling a bit shaky on his feet but determined to ignore it. 

"What do we need to do?" 

Souji examined him for a moment, but, seemingly satisfied with what he saw, ordered, "Help me get the sick over to the gates, where they can lie down. You and I have already been exposed to the disease; even if we're not sick yet, it's better that we go so we don't risk anyone else being exposed to it that doesn't need to. It might not help our chances of surviving, but we can at least minimize the casualties." 

The brown-haired man nodded firmly, steeling himself for what was to come. "Right." 

And oh, how he'd needed to. 

Just like the nameless woman who'd died in his arms, tens, hundreds, countless fellow to-be airline passengers were sick, eyes red and coughing up blood. Black bruises spread like claws above many of their collars or down their sleeves. Some were still well enough to move on their own; others needed to be wheeled or carried, and with each one Yosuke lifted into his arms, he hoped they wouldn't be the same as the first, prayed none of them died before he even got the chance to learn their names or give them something soft to lie on. Pleaded silently with whatever demon or angel that was listening that he wouldn't have to feel another once-living person grow cold in his arms. 

Men, women, elderly, adults, children... No one escaped the plague, it seemed, and his hopes of survival, of more than a lucky handful coming out of this disaster alive, dampened and dwindled as the number of afflicted grew. For two days this went on; for two days, Yosuke carried the sick to the seats by the terminal gates and laid them on their sides, that they wouldn't die choking on their bloody vomit. 

Not that it mattered much. The pile of deceased grew rapidly, after all, each corpse carried out hastily to make room for the newly sick. 

Two days. Two days, and apparently neither Souji nor anyone else could get a damn ambulance. He couldn't even offer a word of comfort to these poor people, couldn't pretend everything was alright with anything more than a strained smile, a smile that surely was thought to promise death by now, by the looks on some of their faces as he carried someone else away. So few of them spoke Japanese, and he knew only so much English. His inability to communicate was turning him into no more than a bringer of death in their eyes, an all-consuming monster, the exact opposite of what he wanted to, was trying to do. It was torture, it was hell on earth, and all either he or Souji could do was keep things running smoothly, hope that their efforts were helping _someone_ stay alive until the end of it, at least. Even if it was just one person, that would be enough. 

... Not really. Two people would be enough. It was horrible for him to think this, but if only one person was going to survive, he hoped that person would die, too. He didn't want that one person to have to struggle to live on all by themselves. It would be far too lonely, far too painful. 

Yosuke stopped and coughed, wincing and feeling a headache start to come on. That wasn't good. He was exhausted, he realized. He needed to stop and get some rest, before he wore himself out and became even _more_ helpless. 

He was _sick_ of being helpless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be next Wednesday; I posted this one a little early because there's a birthday this week that I need to remember.
> 
> Feel free to critique me! I can't improve if I'm not sure where I need work!


	3. Encroaching Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a very good reason why the character who pops up in this chapter was not tagged.

"Yosuke, are you alright? You don't look well," Souji noted, concern visible on his face. Which meant a lot, considering it was coming from Mr. Expressionless himself. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me." To be honest, he had been feeling a little under the weather since yesterday afternoon, when he'd felt that headache come on, but he wasn't about to admit it. It wasn't _that_ bad. 

The silver-haired man, however, frowned in response, clearly not believing him. "Alright, if you're sure... But if it gets to be too much, feel free to sit down for a while. You've been working hard the past two days. I don't want you getting sick, even if it's not that hemorrhagic fever." 

Still, Yosuke waved him off. Souji sighed and left, presumably to take stock of how much food was left. They couldn't exactly go into town and get more, after all; everyone else was suffering from the same shortage. The quarantine hadn't ended, and the hospitals were still booked. They'd gotten about one person on an ambulance in the past few days. One. And all of the paramedics looked as if they'd been been through a war zone, giving credence to the fact that the hospital staff were worn thin trying to handle the cases thrown at them. Not that he'd ever doubted it... 

_"Uh-huh. Sure you didn't."_

Yosuke froze, not daring to turn around. That sudden whispering in his ear... It couldn't be. It couldn't. He hadn't been inside the TV in years, and he could still feel Susano'o in the back of his mind, even if he couldn't call the Persona forth in this world. ... Right? 

... Right. Still there. He was sure of it. So there was no way that voice could be real. 

_"You keep telling yourself that. Denial only makes me stronger, remember?"_

He wouldn't waver. He wouldn't. "... I don't have time for this," he declared, and whipped around- 

\- to find no one there. 

Thoroughly spooked, Yosuke decided maybe he should take up that offer to sit down. 

He found a spot with a good vantage point, so he could see how things were going even if he wasn't helping. Helping, he scoffed to himself. Truthfully, he was starting to think maybe they were making things worse. Sure, it was all well and good that they were minimizing chances of infection by separating the sick from the healthy. It was already clear the fever was contagious; people who had been perfectly healthy at the beginning of the first day succumbed to the virus one by one, and the people who'd been in contact with them got sick over the next two days as well. The few doctors that they'd had were already among the pile of corpses; they'd lived long enough to pass on to Souji and thus to everyone else that the disease was neither airborne nor bacterial, but that didn't tell them how to keep it from spreading. Didn't tell them how to keep everyone else alive. 

This was impossible. Completely freaking impossible. Maybe that voice, hallucination or no, had a point, because he had to admit that somewhere deep down, he hadn't completely believed Souji when he'd said there was no ambulance coming on that first day. It was like Saki all over again, what with that one woman's death casting doubt upon everything he should have known and believed in; he knew in his mind and in his heart that his partner would never keep anything from someone in need, but knowing and feeling were two different things. He'd felt betrayed up until that one ambulance, with its haggard paramedics, finally reared its head and proved to him that no, his partner truly hadn't lied, hadn't held back when it counted. 

There was disappointment there. Disappointment that his partner, his _rock_ , wasn't as infallible as he'd have sworn up and down the man would've been nearly ten years ago. But then, he shouldn't have expected him to be. He'd had ten years to come to terms with the man's humanity, and he was surprised the expectation had appeared to begin with. 

It hurt. 

It _hurt_. 

Yosuke paused. Wait a minute. It actually hurt. That wasn't a physical response to an emotion, or it would've begun to fade as he paused in his musings. No, something _actually_ hurt, and that was frightening enough to jump from where he was seated and stand instead. He breathed deeply and carefully, trying to calm his body so as to observe its goings on better, but whatever the pain had been receded quickly. 

Warily, he decided resuming his usual task would be the best course of action. It would keep him distracted. 

_Usual task,_ he inwardly scoffed. How horrid the situation must be that he'd already begun to think of carting the sick to their eventual deathbeds as a simple chore. A distraction, even. 

There was no escaping the description of said task, either. Everyone afflicted with the fever died. No exceptions. Not a single person so far had caught the fever, suffered through it, and made it out alive and fever-free. Maybe the person in the ambulance lived, but there was no way to know for sure, and the paramedics had looked bad enough that the situation was probably as grim at the hospital as it was at the airport. That one person probably died, too. 

He felt nauseous as he made his rounds, looking for the fever's next unfortunate victim. Despite their best efforts, the disease still seemed to be spreading like wildfire; the living population in the airport seemed to have been cut down by at least a quarter since the first day. About a third of what remained were quarantined in the terminals. The rest were just waiting for the inevitable. 

He hated himself for being the one to take these people away from their loved ones. Sure, he wasn't the only one delegated to the task — plenty of others had already been exposed but weren't sick yet or had some sort of medical training that made them invaluable to this effort — but a mother of two kids? A dad just trying to make it home for his son's birthday? A newlywed couple who'd been robbed of their first honeymoon? A little girl, young enough to still believe herself a princess? 

Guilt. All he felt was guilt. Guilt that he'd been the one to let them die, guilt that he couldn't do more to help. 

As he approached an old man, who still seemed fairly strong but whose eyes were as bloodshot as the rest and whose skin was lined with familiar, deadly splotches, Yosuke felt his chest ache. Here was another human being, with children and grandchildren who loved him and cried pleading words begging for he, the Reaper, not to take the man away. There wasn't even a drop of blood on the man or his family, not yet, and if Yosuke hadn't seen many a case that started out just like this, he would have left him alone. Would have gladly hoped with the family that the old man hadn't succumbed to the plague, that he was safe and that no action needed to be taken. Had done it, a few times, in fact. 

Those had been the worst, because instead of having to cart off one dead body, he'd had to cart off an entire family. 

His eyes were red by now, red despite the tears he no longer shed because he'd gone and cried them all out a hundred times. Red and bloodshot from restless nights, red from wiping his tears away as they came. But, with experienced hands — and how it _ached_ every time he thought of that — he pried the old man away and walked him to a terminal. 

_"Sheesh. The things we do for these guys."_

He hesitated once. He made no move to acknowledge the returned whispers beyond that. 

_"Here we are, trying to save their sorry asses, and we get kicking and screaming in return. What, no 'thank you' for your knight in shining armor? Our English might be rusty, but we can understand THAT much!"_

The whispers echoed in his mind, refusing to be ignored. They grew louder and louder, until the words were clear, the voice distinct. 

Distinctly _his_. 

Yosuke paused, not at all worried about the old man running off. This time, when he turned to face the voice, his own visage stared him in the face, clear as day. 

"You are me," he declared softly, not caring to make a scene but knowing he'd have to be very clear and very resolute if he wanted to make it work, "but you do not represent every single facet of me. You're one part of a whole, and right now, I need the other parts of me more than you." 

_"So what?"_ his double cut in, before Yosuke could finish. _"You think you can shut me out just because you feel like it? Because you don't feel like dealing with me right now?"_

"Shut up, that's not what I—" 

_"Yosuke, Yosuke, Yosuke. You don't tell a Shadow to shut up."_

Yosuke stared down his counterpart. Then he turned and resumed walking. He didn't have time for this right now. The last time his Shadow had "resurfaced" like this, it had been a fake, and whether it was real or not, it could probably wait until he had a spare moment. Besides, they were in the real world. Shadows couldn't cast spells here, could they? Teddie certainly couldn't... 

And it seemed this one couldn't, either; no one else seemed to see or hear him, and they even walked straight through him as he continued to mock and deride Yosuke and his efforts. "Piss off," the brunette had even muttered angrily under his breath at some point, and some people had given him strange looks. He hadn't been as quiet as he'd thought. 

Nevertheless, it felt as if the apparition wished to scorn him at every turn. Yosuke did his best to grin and bear it all through the day, his smile slowly growing strained when it began to get under his skin. 

_"You're useless,"_ the Shadow mocked. 

_"They'll all die anyway. Why do you keep trying?"_

_"So persistent. You really are a pain in the ass."_

With that, he snapped. 

"Stop it... Stop it... Stop it!" Yosuke repeated, growing in volume until he finally screamed, head pounding and body aching with upset. "Go away, damn it all, go away..." 

The Shadow smirked and looked down on the young man as he dropped to his knees. 

_"I'm not going anywhere, Yosuke. Face it. You're through. Rosalia is all-consuming. You're no exception."_

The brown-haired man glared up at his counterpart, already-bloodshot eyes merely adding to the effect. "I hate you," he hissed. And then he fell forward, the pain and exhaustion finally taking him from consciousness. 

As he fell, black claws crawled up the back of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I almost made a GUILT joke and then I stopped because that was the wrong pathogen entirely and Naomi does not count *ahem*
> 
> Keep the comments/critiques coming! They're addicting and remind me there are things I want to write!


	4. To Live On (Just Let Me Die)

Whispers. Whispers, whispers, and more whispers. 

His head throbbed. _Make it stop._

_Make it stop,_ he sobbed mentally. _Please, make it stop!_

His pleas went unanswered. His pain intensified and spread as he drew closer to consciousness, nausea filling his belly and making him wish he'd never eaten breakfast. Or dinner. Or at all. Ever. 

His body felt hot, like someone had turned his insides to paper and his blood to liquid fire, incinerating everything in its path and not bothering to stick to the usual veins and arteries. His muscles ached, so badly he could barely keep from screaming and instead settled for a pained groan. He felt weak, very weak, and only the pain kept him from passing out again then and there. 

There was sensation in his left hand, soothing in a sort but not nearly enough to take all of the pain away. Fingers played with the ring on his own finger, twisting and stroking but clearly not trying to take it off in any way. 

There was a surface on his back and on his right, and Yosuke supposed he'd been laid on his side like the other victims. He wondered if he'd vomited or coughed up blood yet. 

He opened his eyes, and instead of "Hey" or "What happened," the words "I'm sorry" came out. 

The man playing with his hand started, but didn't let go. Instead, he squeezed lightly, a gesture of comfort and relief at the same time, and asked, "What for?" 

"For doubting you. And being disappointed when you were right. I didn't mean it." 

"Yosuke..." The man let go of his hand to stroke his hair, and Yosuke leaned into it. He permitted the kiss when it came, though it was to his forehead, and observed the man's expression. 

Souji looked exhausted. His eyes were white, not bloodshot, but black bags could be seen underneath them. His shirt hadn't been cleaned in days, but that was unsurprising. Yosuke himself had only replaced his shirt as needed; if it wasn't bloodstained, it was fine. The man's eyes were focused on Yosuke and only Yosuke, his face dropping the stoic pretense and showing all of his worry for the other man. 

Souji cared for him, Yosuke knew, and would be just as devastated at losing him as Yosuke would at losing Souji. Souji loved him, after all. 

And Yosuke, stupid, stupid Yosuke, had gone and caught the plague with a 100% death rate. 

Yosuke reached up with his left, taking the hand in his hair and grasping it firmly, or as firmly as he could in his current state. "... I'm sorry," he said again, this time purposefully, loaded with meaning. 

Sorry he'd gotten sick. Sorry he hadn't caught on sooner, even though he of all people should have recognized the signs. Sorry he was dying, too, and leaving his partner a widow at a mere 26 years of age. 

Souji, catching the silent words, squeezed again, leaning in to press his face against the back of Yosuke's hand. 

It was wet, and not from sweat. 

It hurt, and this time Yosuke knew it was an emotional sort of hurt and not some well-timed symptom. His chest burned with it, the feeling radiating through his body and making his eyes start to water, but it was not the same nauseating, crippling pain the fever caused. This pain, emotional pain, wasn't nearly as frightening, even as it stacked itself atop the fever's pain. 

Searching for something to talk about, anything to keep his partner distracted from the travesty that was his own predicament, Yosuke asked how everyone else was holding up. 

Souji merely pressed harder against his hand, whispering an apology of his own. Yosuke sighed softly, understanding immediately. 

"... Partner, look at me." 

Souji tilted back just enough to peer at Yosuke through his bangs, and his heart went out to the man. 

"Partner, I know you. You're a leader, deep down. Don't apologize for doing your thing when it's needed most." 

"But if I'd just kept a closer eye on you, or if I'd taken charge sooner and carried the lady myself instead—" 

"Then either I'd get sick anyway, or you'd be the one lying here and we'd be out of a leader. No, look at me," Yosuke ordered firmly when Souji tried to look away. 

He didn't have more than a day or two left, Yosuke knew, and by no means was he going to let his time go to waste. He needed to speak now, or in death forever hold his peace. He tried to shift, just enough to sit up, but found he couldn't get more than an inch off of the seats beneath him. Not if he wanted to have enough breath to make his point, anyway. Instead, he tugged their still-entwined hands closer, down to his chest, forcing Souji to come and meet him. Their eyes didn't meet quite right, with his own eyes lining up vertically while his partner's lined up horizontally, but it didn't matter. This would do. 

"Partner. Souji," he began. "I love you. Come on, we said our vows ages ago, and I still mean every word I said then. Maybe I screwed up here and there, and so did you, honestly, but in the end? Our feelings haven't changed. Or if they did, they got stronger. So, that's why..." 

Here, Yosuke choked. Here, Yosuke felt fluid escape his eyes, staining his cheeks, and he hoped beyond hope that they were simple tears and not the thick red lines signature to the plague. He paused and took a deep breath. Squeezing Souji's hand, he soldiered on. 

"That's why I need you to leave me here." 

His grey-haired partner's eyes widened in shock, face wrinkled in distress. "Yosuke, what—" 

"Live. _Live_ , Souji, live and lead everyone else so they can live, too. I love you, Souji, partner, and I don't want you to die until you're old a-and _white-haired_ or _bald_. 

"I'm sick. I hate that. I hate this plague, and I hate that no one's been able to do anything about the people who got sick, too. I hate that there's no cure, I hate that this disease kills in just days, and I hate that it all means I'm going to die here, and leave you all alone. My boss won't get to kill me for being half a week late, I won't be able to move in with you to that house we picked out together, and whatever kid you might adopt one day is never going to know me or have me as a second dad. I won't get to watch them grow up, and have awkward talks, chase off the jerk that stole our kid's heart, or scold you for spoiling them. But you know what I would hate even more? More than not being able to be here and experience those things with you? 

"Above everything else, I'd hate it if you gave up on those experiences before you even had a chance just because I wasn't here, in body, with you." 

Souji was sobbing, and so was Yosuke; the mucus everywhere made a mess of them, but they didn't care. 

"We're _partners_ , damn it all," Yosuke continued, voice shaking but meaning every word. "We're equals. We have each other's backs. If I... If I'm not going to be around to do those things anymore, then I need you to do them for me. Please, partner. While I can still hear you past the agony. Promise me you'll live." 

Souji did nothing but cry into Yosuke's chest, and Yosuke's heart ached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... wait what
> 
> wth
> 
> that was not how i was planning to end this chapter
> 
> *screams*


	5. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is officially out of my hands i can't control them anymore

"Souji... Souji, come on." Yosuke coughed weakly; his partner's weight on his chest was decidedly not helpful. Emotionally or physically. 

He'd stayed his hand with Souji this entire time for a very good reason; if he'd given himself a moment to relax and break down in Souji's arms, neither of them would get anything done. Souji would prioritize Yosuke, and Yosuke would feel like a heel for making him withhold whatever support the man could give the ailing airport. And he knew, without a doubt, if he'd tried to relax or be intimate with his partner, a breakdown would have been imminent. He had no idea how coherent the efforts were without Souji at the helm; from the get-go, he was the one who'd organized the miniature quarantine within the airport. The man had charisma, smarts, and skill; it was like he was born to lead anything and anyone to victory and success. Yosuke refused to get in the way of that infinite potential; hell, with Souji at the helm, he'd gladly bet that, even with the circumstances so heavily set against them, there would be plenty of people, alive and healthy, to walk back out of the airport when the quarantine ended. 

Suddenly, he wanted to laugh. It hadn't been more than a day ago that he'd been despairing about how lonely it would be if only one person survived, had it? Or maybe two days, considering. Still. He'd gone from hoping two people would maybe survive to trusting a sizable group would definitely survive in so little time, and the only thing that had occurred to change his view was a terminal illness snatching him up in its claws. 

He turned his head, wanting to take in as much of his surroundings he could. He couldn't see very much, really; much of the area was blocked from his line of sight by the seats across from him. Stains of blood mixed with vomit still shone on the seat; it had only recently been vacated. For a fleeting, insane moment, he wanted to touch it, see if it was still warm, before inwardly reeling back in disgust. _Haha. No. Health reasons aside... just, ew._

He could still see the others, walking around and doing the job he'd done prior to his collapse. From them, he could hear soothing tones, words he still didn't know but sounded comforting enough for even Yosuke to appreciate. He'd done the same when he could; no one could understand him, sure, but he had the sinking feeling that they wouldn't have understood English, either. Not when it got bad. No; the words would be too muddled by the fever to reach their ears. His, too, soon enough. 

He petted his partner, stroking a hand through his hair. It wouldn't be long before he couldn't understand Souji, either. Perhaps he'd still know what he was saying in the back of his mind, but... 

"... Wake up, Souji," he pleaded. "Please." 

The man on his chest stirred, but refused to leave him, wrapping an arm around him and clinging tightly. 

"Souji, stop. Souji, please, please stop. You need to go." 

It felt hot and wet on his chest; Souji was shaking. He was crying again. 

"Dammit, Souji...!" He was interrupted by a violent cough, ripping itself from his throat and setting his chest on fire. 

It was back. 

He'd covered his mouth just as he coughed, thankfully, keeping the blood away from his partner. The man in question had moved instantly, helping Yosuke to turn over. Yosuke appreciated this; more than ever, he understood why this was a good course of action. He didn't want to suffocate just because he was lying on his back. 

It hurt, hurt like every cell in his body was being eaten from the inside out. Another cough forced itself out, and Yosuke couldn't stop the wave that hit him, barely able to gasp in any breath. The nausea that had been present increased with the pain, and he just wanted it to be over. 

He cracked an eye open (when had he closed them?), wondering if the screaming he heard was his own or someone else's. It wasn't, it turned out, but it may as well have been; if he'd had the energy to scream, he damn well would have. No; it was another man, whose head but not body he spotted in a corner. He was shouting in Japanese, he noted, shouting for someone named Maya to forgive him, to stop punishing him. A fairly young girl's voice tried to tell him Maya wasn't here, and Yosuke abruptly realized the man was hallucinating. 

Yosuke whimpered, another wave of pain hitting him. Fuck... Was he going to start hallucinating, too? Or had it already begun...? 

Nausea, stronger than before, ran through him, and he realized abruptly he was going to hurl. Souji noticed before he did, it seemed, and had pulled out one of the bins from under the seats. 

He'd never seen so much red in his life. 

Fear, crippling fear ran through him. He'd known it as a somewhat abstract fact before now, but it finally hit him: This was _real_. That was _his_ blood, coming out of _his_ mouth. He'd caught the plague, and he was going to die. By the gods, he was actually going to die here, all alone, except he wasn't and that was even worse because Souji was here and that meant he was leaving Souji- 

Yosuke puked again. 

Tears leaked out of his bloodshot eyes as he gasped for breath. Gods, no. Please, please, no. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live, he wanted to stay with Souji, he would give up everything else if he just got the chance to see the end of this damn quarantine from somewhere outside of a coffin or pile of corpses. He didn't even care about how helpless he was to save the others anymore. He just... didn't want to see Souji make that sad, sad face anymore. Didn't want to see the pain there that he'd caused. 

"Souji," he gargled, choking slightly on his own blood, "leave." 

And it killed him inside when Souji, looking more pained than ever before, finally turned and left him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/critiques especially appreciated because I feel like I'm turning into a repetitive ball of cheese and I don't know if it's bad enough to need fixing yet


	6. The Rose's Thorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You're not me... You're nothing LIKE me!"_  
>  \- Yosuke Hanamura, Persona 4

He was glad his partner left. 

Glad, damn it. He wanted his partner gone. 

... Oh, who was he kidding? 

It wasn't long before Yosuke's misery got the better of him. He took it back; he didn't really want Souji to leave. He wanted his partner, his spouse, by his side as his condition deteriorated. He needed him. He didn't want to be alone, right now. He wasn't sure he could stand it. It was too late, though; Souji was gone, and if he'd listened to Yosuke, he'd stay gone. 

Gleeful, echoing laughter rang out, coming from everywhere and nowhere. _"You've done it now,"_ sneered the doubled voice the laughter belonged to. 

Yosuke curled himself into a ball against the backrest, coughing quietly as he did so. 

_"The one person who understands you, literally, is gone forever. And it's all your fault."_

His vision blurred, but he made no effort to wipe the tears away. It would just remind him of how real it all was. 

_"Did he ever even love you to begin with? Look at how easy it was for him to leave you to die."_

Yosuke hugged himself tighter. He was dying. He didn't have to listen anymore; what was the use? Was there any point in acknowledging his faults when he wouldn't live long enough to change any of it? 

_"You're such a mess, Yosuke. Whatever happened to Souji's partner, sticking with him through thick and thin? You left him first, Yosuke. You picked up that girl, not him. You fought your way to get to her, not him. You ignored the blood, let her vomit all over you and cough in your eye and never once blamed her. It's your fault you're like this. You abandoned him, so he abandoned you."_

Stop it, Yosuke whispered in his mind. He didn't think he had the strength to speak the words aloud. At least, not without losing more blood, a commodity made precious for as long as the plague lasted. As long as his own life still lasted. 

It knelt down in front of him, trying to force Yosuke to look it in the eye. _"I guess it's not surprising. He must have been sick of being hitched to your worthless ass."_

Yosuke finally shut his eyes, trying to block out his mirror's visage. It didn't quite work as planned, however. Instead, Yosuke found himself standing at the entrance of the TV world, facing down his other self. Or rather, a bastardization of him. 

Black bruises, shaped like claws, extended over his counterpart's body, bastardizing it and making it more sinister than ever, eyes gold against a crimson sclera. It flashed him a sinister grin, twisted and evil and... 

... wrong...? 

He didn't get the chance to contemplate it, though; the Shadow ( _the fake_ ) resumed its taunting, and Yosuke couldn't move. Couldn't escape. 

_"You abandoned him,"_ it sang again, far too happy for Yosuke's comfort. _"He must hate you now. There he was, crying over you, and you turned around and threw it in his face!"_

Yosuke couldn't speak. No matter how hard he tried to scream, no matter how his throat felt as if it were being ripped to shreds with the force of his own voice, no sound came out. "I didn't leave him," Yosuke wanted to say. "Shut up! Shut up!" 

But the figure before him continued on, drawing closer, an unhinged hunger in its eyes, as if it wanted to consume him, swallow him whole and bury him in darkness. _"You hate him, too. Him and his stupid little habits, and his stupid little hero complex."_

Hero complex? What the hell was it talking about? If anything, Yosuke was the one with... 

_"You know what I mean. The one that made him take charge of this shithole death trap. The one that makes him save poor kittens stuck in trees instead of showing up to a date on time. The one that makes him take responsibility every time someone fucks up, not just you. The one that made him try to_ redeem _Adachi ten years ago."_

"Those just prove he's a good guy-" 

_"The one that made him stop you from killing Namatame."_

Yosuke's heart skipped a beat. 

_"You would have done it, too. It would've been just one little push! No one would've known, no one but the rest of the team, and no one but the girls were against it. Even Naoto, the damn cop on the team, would've been glad to pull the fucking trigger. You could've gotten away with it, but Souji, the one with the most reason to do the job, cockblocked it."_

And Yosuke was _glad_ for that! Death was awful, was even more awful now that he'd seen it firsthand ( _felt someone's life fade away in his arms_ ) and he wished it upon no one. He was glad he hadn't become a murderer. 

_"At least you got to kill someone else right underneath his nose."_

What? 

When had he...? 

That wasn't true. It couldn't be. 

Right? 

_"Rosalia's convenient, isn't she? She's the perfect way to wipe someone out without a trace. She's contagious; she destroys everything. Just a little blood in somebody's eye or mouth, and bam! Dead within days."_

Shit. 

Blood in someone's eye? Yeah. That happened. 

So that was why he was sick and Souji wasn't. 

_Fuck._

"Wait!" The word was mouthed before Yosuke could even think to say it, and as usual, the words were inaudible, dissipating into nothingness. He hadn't the slightest idea why he even tried; it wasn't going to change anything. The other Yosuke would just ignore him. 

_"You've killed families, Yosuke."_ The crimson stain on his counterpart's chest pulsed as the apparition spoke, tendrils of blood snaking out from the center of its chest without making the stain any bigger. The claws on its face twisted and squirmed, accenting its already cruel grin. _"You let them all die together."_

"That... That's not what I did! That's not what happened!" 

_"What's more, you gave other families false hope! You made them think they wouldn't have to die alone, that they'd all get to be together in death, and then you turned around and ripped that old man from his family!"_

"No... no, no!" 

_"Sometimes, I wonder who's worse: me, or you?"_

"What the hell are you talking about!? I AM you!" 

The words rang out clearly, the first words he'd heard from his own mouth in what felt like an eternity. Yosuke froze in shock. It wasn't just because he was surprised to hear his own voice, however. He was shocked at the words that came out, the direct opposite of what would normally come of a disagreement with his other self. Shocked at the revelation it brought, the puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. 

"You... You're me, aren't you...?" he questioned wonderingly. "But... it's been 'you, you, you,' this whole time, since you first reappeared. Never 'us,' never 'we,' never 'I.' Not like you... no. Not like my real Shadow does. You aren't him. You aren't my Shadow." 

_"Beginning,"_ was the reply, cold and echoed, a distortion of his own voice doubled with a young girl's. _Rosalia,_ his mind supplied, and suddenly, he knew. Standing before him was not a manifestation of his most base desires, but of the virus itself. 

This was the Rosalia virus, personified. 

_"You abandoned him."_

"I didn't." 

_"He abandoned you."_

"I asked him to." 

_"You're dying."_

"No, I'm- ... Okay, on second thought, I can't argue that." 

_"You left..."_ The distortion in the virus' voice began to grow, white noise suddenly crackling in the background, becoming louder and louder with every word. _"Like hiM... liKe bROTheR!"_

Brother...? The man stepped back, confused and wary. 

_"SiStER. fAtHER. EveRyoNe GO AwaY. aLwAYs."_

The bruises and the girl's voice consumed the apparition, leaving behind only the ghost of a girl, a red stain on her chest and on her thigh. She clutched her head in distress and glared through Yosuke. 

_"PaY... pAy, fOR thIs.. Must... DiE. eVerYOnE mUst DIE!"_

The scene before him was surreal, almost too surreal to believe... But Yosuke had only a moment to contemplate it before, all too quickly, his world was again filled with pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's my explanation for how Veronica Cage and Sandra Lieberman knew wtf was going on before the rest of us...


	7. Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Doctor... Could you... do me... a favor...?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Tell my wife and little girl..._
> 
>  
> 
> _... that I loved them, with all my heart...!_
> 
>  
> 
> _I... I won't get the chance to tell them myself._
> 
>  
> 
> _... Please... I can't..._
> 
>  
> 
> _... The army's going to have to cover up how I died here..._
> 
>  
> 
> _Doctor... I... am proud..._
> 
>  
> 
> _That I was able... to be useful... to a wonderful doctor like you..._
> 
>  
> 
> _Doctor, Sir... Please, don't let me die in vain... Please, keep this country safe...!_
> 
>  
> 
>  _That's... my last wish..."_  
>  -[Samuel Trumbull](http://youtu.be/u0oGpGwdrtY?t=22m), Trauma Team

"Yosuke..." 

Another girl's voice ringing in his head. Great. 

"Yosuke, it's me." 

He really couldn't move anymore, if he tried. He was just glad he could feel the airport seats beneath him again; it meant he wasn't stuck in another hallucination. Probably. 

"Can you hear me?" 

Yosuke coughed in response. Reflex jerked him forward, but a hand kept him from falling off the edge. It felt soft, caressing, loving... He leaned into the touch, enjoying the sensation, and, curious, forced his eyes open just a crack, wondering who it could possibly be. 

The instant he did, he regretted it. 

He shut his eyes immediately, not wanting to believe what he was seeing, what he was hearing. He recognized this person, would recognize her no matter where he went in life, no matter how long it had been since he'd last met her personally. He whimpered in agony and turmoil, even as the voice, the hauntingly familiar voice made a noise of concerned inquiry. It was another hallucination. It had to be. 

But why did it have to be this one? 

She made soothing noises as she stroked his arm, and Yosuke shivered in response. Her touch was warm, unlike the cold he expected it to be, knew it should be. This scared him, frightened him more than anything else could right now, because if it were just a hallucination, it would pass right through him, like his (fake) Shadow had. No, she was real, very real, and he was very scared, because she was also _dead_. 

Saki. 

Sobs burst from his throat, a cry resounding without his meaning to. This was it. He was really dying, wasn't he? He wouldn't be able to feel Saki, otherwise. She was a ghost, a spirit, ready to take him from this plane. 

"Yosuke?" she asked again, and this time, Yosuke opened his eyes fully, ignoring the burning sensation that came with it. She was ethereal, as beautiful as the last time he'd ever seen her, and he looked her in the eye as he croaked out her name. 

"Saki," he said, and the expression of sadness on her face was profound, like no other. 

His arm trembled, and he shook and sweated with the effort, but he lifted his hand to her face and gently brushed away the tears that fell. "Don't cry," Yosuke pleaded, and somehow she managed to look even sadder. 

She took his hand, just as he tired too much to keep it up, and pressed her face into it, just as his partner had before. She trembled, Yosuke was amazed to find, trembled almost as much as he did. "You were screaming," she explained as she cried. "I couldn't just leave you here, all alone." 

"I..." Yosuke swallowed. "I thought you hated me." 

"I love you, Yosuke. Can't you see? It's me," she sobbed desperately, but Yosuke shook his head. 

"You don't have to lie. It's okay. I know." 

She looked at him, eyes moist and full of some emotion he couldn't describe. She opened her mouth as if to protest, but closed it again, perhaps thinking better of it. Instead, she reached out one hand and wiped away the tear he didn't even know had formed, let alone fallen. She smiled forlornly at him, bitter and sad. "You... You do, don't you...?" 

Yosuke smiled back, just as brokenly. "Yeah." 

"Do you still love me?" 

"Always," Yosuke replied without hesitation. "I'll always love you, Saki." 

Her grip on his hand slipped, but Yosuke grabbed her hand again, holding it close, drawing it near gentler than he had his partner's. He didn't need to force her eyes on him, after all; for once, she was looking right at him, not an ounce of contempt hiding behind narrowly shaped eyes. 

"I'll always love you," he repeated, smiling sadly at her. "I'll never forget... You were the one who reached out to me, back when I first moved to Inaba... You were the only one who didn't judge or hate me, at least on the outside, for being the Junes kid. You were there for me, if grudgingly, and you were the first person to see me for me. I loved you for that. I will always love you because of that." 

"Didn't you move on, after I died?" Her voice cracked, and Yosuke found it hard to bear. "Why...? Why didn't you move on...!? I'm not the only one... I can't be the only one..." 

But Yosuke still smiled, pleased and relieved. "I meant what I said. I loved you, and I always will. But that doesn't stop me from finding other people to love. 

"I found friends after you died, you know? It sounds kind of bad, saying it like that... but I don't think I would have made the friends I did if you hadn't. Those bonds wouldn't have had a reason to exist. And one of those... One of those friends became something more, to me. You remember Souji, right? The kid who transferred into my class right before you died. He didn't replace you, I promise. But he's my husband. He's my husband, and for good reason. I love him, so much, and I have to thank you for helping me get closer to him." 

As he spoke, he found his vision starting to blur... Had her face always been so long...? He had to keep talking, though... He wasn't finished, yet... 

"Hey..." Yosuke found himself slurring his words, but couldn't get his mouth to move properly anymore. "I know... I'm not going to make it, but..." 

"Don't say that, Yosuke...!" 

Her distress didn't bother him anymore... Couldn't, because there wasn't a thing he could do to change it. All he could do was say his peace, and let the tears fall freely... 

"Saki... Could you... do me... a favor? Tell my partner, Souji... that I loved him, with all my heart. I... I won't get the chance to tell him myself. I pushed him... away, because... I didn't want him to cry for me. He's my husband... I don't want him to be sad, or to follow me... to the grave. Watch over him for me... Don't let him die, or do... anything stupid." 

There seemed to be less hair framing her face than he thought... He was running out of strength, but he managed to caress her cheek... 

"Hey... I never wanted... to see you sad... Smile for me, please... One last time..." 

He thought Saki might have said his name, but he couldn't hear anymore... His eyes slid shut, and he exhaled, long and slow, mind and body shutting down. 

A scream, incoherent in its despair, rang out throughout the airport. Over and over, Souji shook the man who'd been speaking to him just moments ago, eliciting no response. 

"No. No, Yosuke, stay awake! Yosuke, partner, come on! Don't do this to me! You can't die, please, no, Yosuke, Yosuke, _**YOSUKE!**_ " 

* * *

At the front of the airport, a group of ambulances skidded to a stop. A woman in a green and yellow came out of one and shouted, "Hey! We've got the antiserum! Bring out everyone who needs treatment!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's it that's the end don't kill me


End file.
